


Seven Month Itch

by nicefinalbeam (sparkleboom)



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-18
Updated: 2009-10-18
Packaged: 2018-11-16 02:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkleboom/pseuds/nicefinalbeam
Summary: Talking about sex and having it - not the same.





	Seven Month Itch

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in my Arashi Office AU, most likely right after Motivation.

Aiba knew Nino was only typing that loudly because he thought it would drown out the sound of his talking, but he wasn't going to stop until Nino actually came out and told him to, which probably wouldn't be until he got to the really good part. That was always how it worked.

"She _purred_ in my ear, Nino. It was like something from an AV. You know what she said? 'Oh, I do love penguins. So much that I even have penguins on my pants. Do you want to see my pants?' So of course I said _yeah_ I want to see her pants, but we were still in the taxi when she started to lift her skirt, so - "

"AIBA!" Nino finally cut him off, looking thoroughly horrified. Though Aiba wasn't sure if that was because of where the story was leading or because Aiba had paid for a taxi when he was sober enough to walk, at least according to his account of the night so far.

"I'm really happy for you, really, but I think you can leave me to my imagination now," he finished with a shake of his head, rapidly hitting the delete button instead of highlighting what he didn't want and using the 'cut' option. Either a form of stress relief or a reflection of his stubborn personality.

Aiba hadn't noticed before now that Nino had only been typing 'spare me' over and over until it formed a large blob of text. He snorted in semi-amusement before resting his hands on Nino's shoulders, buttering the man up with a spur of the moment massage.

"I'm keeping you up to date on my sex life. Isn't that what best friends are for?" he asked, a barely visible pout playing at his lips.

"No. Best friends are for whatever they want to be for," Nino began to give his opinion, though he was less abrasive than usual when he was melting into his chair like that, "so if I want to be for that air band you started last year, that's it. I played in your air band, even though I could have played an actual guitar. That was me being your best friend. Oh, and I'm there you so can buy me ramen and tell me things not about sex. And occasionally I'm there to play janken under the table at meetings, but that's definitely it."

"Sounds like a lot of things," Aiba responded with a grin, letting Nino return to work and plopping into his own office chair.

Aiba couldn't even argue that Nino _was_ meant to know every detail about his personal life, because it was clear he didn't have a clue. If he could read Aiba, read him better than anyone else, then somehow he'd know that in actuality, Aiba hadn't had sex for seven months, one week, two days, 3 hours, and some odd number of minutes.

Well, he wasn't counting from the last time he'd literally had sex, because it would be hard to know the date and time of something that called for focus on lips and legs and sweet nothings whispered in the moment. It had been a good night, but a night that had not really allowed for the memorization of the numbers brightly displayed on his digital clock.

No, instead he was judging from something sitting in his inbox, the exact date and time written in the details, viewable with a click.

An email that he received that wasn't work related, and wasn't about much of anything really, but an email that had made him think to himself, "I think I'm in love with this person."

It seemed pointless to have sex after that.

Of course, he'd thought about it now and then. Having sex just so that he'd know _how_ to have sex if he ever got the courage to confess. He'd never been in love with a man before.

"Drinks after work?" Ohno's voice sounded from behind him. He grimaced as his stapler went crashing to the floor, taking a moment to calm himself before nodding dumbly.

Drinks as usual. He could handle that.

\--- 

"See it was a bunch of clowns," Ohno explained, scratching his head as if he'd forgotten the rest, even though he remembered everything and was pausing just because, "but they put the pots in the pants, so the cactuses... cacti... they looked like penises."

"Penises," Aiba repeated, laughing like a schoolboy into his beer. Who thought clown penises were a good idea? Not that clowns couldn't have penises. A lot of clowns probably had penises. He made this known to Ohno, who nodded amicably.

"So that's why Sakurai-san said I wasn't allowed to send emails with attachments, which makes it _really hard_ to get completed forms to people. I hate using the printer," the man whined, mouth set in a pout that was more effective than any Aiba had ever seen. Except the other times he'd seen Ohno pout, lower lip full and shining with moisture.

He was sympathetic, but there wasn't much he could say in response. It wasn't as if the boss was _wrong_ to put a stop to personal emails with questionable content, especially with his own position on the line. Part of him loved Ohno _for_ those ridiculous emails - when he thought about the first one, how could he not want to storm into Sho's office and tell him to reverse his decision or no more informing him when he saw a shirt he'd love on sale? - but it was better that Ohno keep his job. Ohno keeping his job meant Aiba seeing him everyday, just as he liked.

In the time he'd been lost in his thoughts, Ohno had somehow managed to pay the bill, slipping his wallet (the one he'd gotten as a gift years and years ago and used so much that the leather was distressed and old IDs and concert tickets and receipts poked out of the top) back into his pocket with a smile. Aiba watched in fascination as he threw back one more shot of tequila, popping his lips afterward in satisfaction.

"Wait, you did it wrong," Aiba stopped him with a raspy chuckle, "Aren't you going to go to the bathroom and then never come back?"

It had happened once. Aiba wasn't the type to hold a grudge, but he was the type to always bring it up. Only because Ohno was the type to always grin sheepishly, and Aiba liked that look best.

He didn't.

"I was actually thinking," he started instead, lifting his finger close to his face and inspecting it as if injured (Aiba was pretty sure he wasn't), "I was thinking I could leave with you."

"Share a taxi?" Aiba was eager to oblige, already beginning to stand up from his seat.

Ohno nodded, but he wasn't finished. "Share a taxi to your place."

"To my place," Aiba echoed, but it didn't sound like the question he'd meant to ask. It sounded like a confirmation, and that might have been the reason for the nervous tingling from his head to his toes.

There were things he wasn't clear on, even as they sat side by side in the taxi. Ohno was hunched slightly forward and remained motionless, eyes fixed on the back of the driver's head (so focused that Aiba worried he might have fallen asleep, like he did in meetings, but when Aiba poked him he poked back so he must have been awake). If each time they went to karaoke, or drinking, or that one time they'd gone to see that comedy that Ohno had fallen asleep through (but not with his eyes open, actually it was much more obvious, with drool on Aiba's brand new shirt that he'd spent hours deciding whether or not to wear) was a date - did that mean he'd been dating the man he was in love with for months now... without even noticing?

It was hard to say. Mostly because Ohno would sit pressed thigh to thigh with anyone if they were next to him, and he laughed at most jokes even if they were inside jokes he had no knowledge of, and while Aiba found all of those things charming - they were things that meant Ohno was Ohno _all the time_.

Office relationships were complicated, Aiba knew, but this one was _more_ complicated... because Aiba didn't know if it even existed, and that sounded like a problem.

"What are you coming back to my place for, Satoshi?" he asked, taking note of the first name basis and adding it to his 'yes we are dating' list. Ohno blinked.

"To have sex with you," he answered bluntly, matter-of-factly, knock-the-wind-from-Aiba's-fragile-fragile-lungs-ly.

"Oh," Aiba might have laughed in a way that sounded perverted, but given the situation he felt it was appropriate, and it's not like Nino or that new guy Mattsun were around to get on his case about it. He nodded in spite of the fact that Ohno had already assumed there had been approval back at the bar, "then I wish we weren't stuck in traffic."

It was a stupid thing to say, but that's why Ohno was his favorite person. The man laughed as if it was the _perfect_ thing to say, high-pitched giggles and wrinkled nose and warmth that spread from his eyes to Aiba's heart.

On a scale of preference, one-night stand with not-very-drunk Ohno was just above one-night stand with very drunk Ohno, and very far below sex as a progression of a relationship. At least he was sure he wasn't at the bottom, but if he wasn't at the top...

He wasn't sure how long he'd been thinking about it - admittedly, the use of 'top' and 'bottom' had gotten the wheels in his brain spinning fast and far away - but it was long enough to make his payment of the driver and the walk to his apartment a complete blur. He snapped back into reality as soon as Ohno's hand pressed against his back. Ohno wobbled a little as he removed his shoes, forcing Aiba's body to stay as rigid as possible.

Wasn't sex supposed to be really exciting? It hadn't been so long that he'd wiped the concept from his mind altogether, but it had been long enough... and this was new enough, that he was stumped as to how to proceed.

He was _excited_ , but he wasn't doing anything exciting. Like pushing Ohno against the wall and shoving his tongue into his mouth like a kid who went _right_ for the inside of a cream puff instead of taking the time to nibble properly. Or something.

"Masaki?" he heard as the touch to his back disappeared. The apartment was cold.

"Hmmmn?" Aiba asked, too afraid to turn his head and look.

"I really want you," Ohno spoke softly, sincerely - something Aiba wouldn't have really described as _sexy_ until now. It wasn't his ears that perked up at the comment. "Is that okay?"

It was more than okay.

He let Ohno know through pleasant kisses, toe-curling kisses, the kind of kisses that made it difficult to remember where he'd put his bedroom. He hadn't put his bedroom anywhere, obviously, you couldn't put a bedroom somewhere. It was where it always was, and at the very least his body remembered because Ohno grunted when his back hit the futon and then they were both laughing giddily, like when Ohno had told the story about the cacti penises.

Aiba wondered briefly if that had been a seduction technique. Ohno's hand was sneaking into the front of his pants before he had an answer.

"Hi."

"What?"

"I don't know..."

"Are you saying hello to my hand in your pants?" Ohno asked in disbelief, but it wasn't the kind of disbelief Aiba would see on Nino's face, where he feared he'd be smacked upside the head, and thinking about Nino during sex was probably a bad idea. Did he ever vocalize how nervous he was, or could Ohno just tell, all quiet in observation and picking up on everything because Aiba had everything on his sleeve anyway?

"I'd like to say hello too," he informed Aiba, arching up, wiggling his hips, every tiny motion a spark that charged the air between them.

Aiba wasn't sure if he'd ever be in this position again, and that was reason enough to take his time with the button on Ohno's pants. Ohno was patient, as patient as could be expected, his body staying still though his breath hitched here and there as his anticipation grew. Aiba's thumbs pressed circles into the man's hips before joining his fingers in sliding pants and boxers both to Ohno's knees.

He didn't notice that Ohno had failed to say hello, too wrapped up in the several thoughts and emotions tugging at him, all at once, not so much jumbled as intertwined. What was the difference between himself and Ohno? How far was he meant to go at a time like this? What could he do to get them both sticky, to reach satisfaction, to make Ohno pop his lips like he had in the bar? No... louder.

He was moaning before he'd even gotten Ohno in hand.

Ohno didn't mind, busy with reaching his free hand up to grasp the back of Aiba's neck, pulling him in for a kiss more passionate than the one shared in the genkan, but just as smooth.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Aiba confessed in a murmur against the man's lips. He felt Ohno's smile at the same time he felt Ohno's hand give a squeeze.

"You're doing me," Ohno reminded helpfully.

It wasn't enough to direct him, Ohno wasn't exactly telling him what to do, but it was enough to push Aiba into action. He was with _Ohno_ , who'd given him a sketch of an eggplant with a mustache for his birthday, and who'd helped him come up with words to teach his Dad's parrot, and who'd never once told him he was annoying for playing Morning Musume songs in the break room.

They moved on instinct. Light teasing strokes and deep kisses turned to confident twists of the wrist and brushes of lips against skin. Ohno's tongue traced the scar on Aiba's chest; Aiba shivered and let his teeth tug at the lobe of Ohno's ear. Both sighed, both moaned, and both shifted from hands at erections to hands elsewhere. Ohno gripped at Aiba's shoulders as he snapped his hips upward. Aiba pushed them closer with a hand to Ohno's lower back as he rocked down.

"A li-ittle more," Ohno's voice sounded, mirroring the sensations building in Aiba as they moved against each other, friction and heat. Aiba returned his hand.

One pump, two, a few more and Ohno was spilling, orgasm reached with a low groan. He continued to move with their rhythm, whispering compliments and reaching forward, helping Aiba to completion.

"Saaaaa," was all Aiba managed before he felt familiar spasms in his groin, a burst of pleasure and he was coming hard in Ohno's grasp.

They lay together for several moments, Aiba half on top of Ohno, listening contently to the way their hearts beat fast, then slower and slower, almost in unison but not quite. Ohno hummed, turning his head to rub the tip of his nose against Aiba's cheek.

"Are we dating?" Aiba couldn't contain himself anymore, worry in his expression as he turned to meet Ohno's gaze.

"Eh?" Ohno asked in surprise, eyes widening in time with the pang in Aiba's heart, but his nudge to Aiba's side was more playful than dismissive. Aiba dared to hope.

"Didn't you get my email?"

"Email?" Aiba repeated, eyes searching Ohno's face for some clue.

"Ah, it was months ago," Ohno seemed a little unsure, pulling at his lip with his teeth, "I guess I should have sent another one, huh?"

It took a few seconds to process, but when it became clear, Aiba laughed loudly, surprised and relieved and as in love as ever. Maybe they weren't thinking of the same thing, but it didn't matter much. Aiba had received an email seven months ago. Seven months, one week, two days, and some odd number of hours and minutes ago.

"Want to have lunch together tomorrow?"

\--- 

"He looks unusually happy today. You think his mom bought him new socks again?" Nino peeked over his cubicle wall as Ohno passed by, whistling and swinging his bento dangerously.

"I think he probably - "

"Why is he still living at home at his age? He could buy his own socks and he'd be happy everyday," Nino continued on one of his favorite topics.

Aiba wanted to point out that Sho still lived at home and he was _in charge_ , but Nino had sunk his teeth in. There'd be no distracting him while he was still working through the mystery of Ohno - poking at the subject, sniffing, rejecting and saving solution for another day.

"I mean, what does he do if he wants to have sex with somebody?" Nino tried to make a point, though Aiba thought it was a bit hypocritical for Nino to bring up sex when he had practically forbidden Aiba to discuss it.

"I'm sure - " Aiba tried to respond, but Nino was still worked up.

"Does he just bring them home anyway? Sneak them past his parents' room? Tip-toe and try not to giggle even though he's probably drunk off his ass? Even then it's like... you're there. In your parents' house, how do you just... do it? Quietly? How do you have enough willpower to not like..." Nino trailed off, perhaps realizing he was thinking way too much about a topic that really had nothing to do with him.

And had everything to do with Aiba.

"I would explain it to you," Aiba finally got a word in edgewise, straightening a pile of papers by dropping them repeatedly onto his desktop, "But you said you don't want to know about my sex life."

"No, I don't," came Nino's immediate response.

Aiba waited for him to catch on. It took a lot longer than he was expecting, given how quickly Nino's mind usually sped through information. The force with which Nino pushed himself across the walking space from his cubicle to Aiba's was nearly enough to mess up the papers again.

"Talk," he demanded, brown eyes bright with a combination of annoyance and curiosity.

Aiba grinned.

"After lunch."


End file.
